


Weapon of Mass Destruction

by DunkinLove



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Edging, F/M, Masturbation, Porn with some plot, Sex Toys, Slightly Dom Illya, Smut, Vibrators, just a whole lot of garbage, trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 05:58:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8653474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DunkinLove/pseuds/DunkinLove
Summary: Answered Gallyakink prompt #14:Gaby and Illya discover the vibrator





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I know I should be finishing my series but the state of the world in the last few weeks has gotten me a bit down and I just haven't really felt up to writing angst...so in the meantime, enjoy this dumpster fire full of TRASH that I wrote. I can't believe this is 6,000+ words...but hey! At least it has _some_ plot!
> 
> If for some reason you enjoy this, you may want to download it because I can't guarantee I'll want this linked to my AO3 account forever. It will, however, be floating around on Tumblr (just not linked to my actual blog...jesus...).

"You're pouting."

"No I'm not!"

"Yes, you are," Napoleon chided as he stirred sugar into his coffee. "You have been mopping around this break room all morning like a child who has had her favorite toy taken away."

Gaby turned in her chair - where she most certainly not mopping - to face her colleague with an irritated glare.

"He's not a toy, he's our partner," Gaby corrected, "and even you have to admit you'd rather not see him go back to that _place_ for three months..."

"It'll go by in no time at all," the American claimed. "Then again...he doesn't serve as many purposes to me as he does you-"

"Shut up Napoleon," Gaby hissed.

"-but as they say, 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'..." he gave a cheeky smile over the rim of his coffee mug.

Gaby huffed and propped her chin back on the heel of her hand. This was the longest Illya would be away since they had...become closer, and Gaby wasn't entirely sure how she was going to handle his absence. She certainly wasn't going to grow fonder, she convinced herself. Lonelier maybe. Certainly more irritable...but she wasn't going to let herself pine for ninety days like some lovesick teenager.

"Anyway," Napoleon said as he sat across the table from her, "I'm sure you'll make do. There are plenty of other options around here..."

Gaby scoffed and toyed with the string of her teabag.

"And there are other ways to take care of business..."

She rolled her eyes at him.

"Don't patronise me Solo. I know how to _take care of business_ ," Gaby said, mocking his American accent.

"What business?" a deep Russian accent asked from the doorway.

The pair turned to see Illya looming behind them.

"Mastur-Ow!" Napoleon yelped as Gaby's kitten heel made contact with a soft bit in his knee under the table. 

"Self-care," Gaby informed Illya.

Their colleague's brow knitted at the unfamiliar saying but he didn't ask for clarification, probably assuming it was more Western, soft-boned nonsense. It certainly sounded like it.

"We were just discussing how you will be missed around here," Napoleon said, winking at Gaby as Illya concentrated on making his tea. "Jane in resourcing must be devastated. Watching her feign interest in technology as an excuse to visit with you is the highlight of my week."

Illya grumbled and Gaby buttered her scone with sharp little stabs. 

"Maybe I will keep her company while you're away?" Napoleon considered. 

"Please do," Illya said sipping his tea, "she is nuisance."

Gaby smiled around a mouthful of scone.

"Of course, we'll manage just fine," Napoleon went on, "I'm sure we'll find ways to keep ourselves occupied in your absence. Won't we Gabs?"

Gaby's eyes flickered from Napoleon's mischievous grin to Illya's concerned frown.

"It'll be okay," she murmured, softly smiling to Illya despite his gloomy expression. She refused to encourage or join in his melancholy. Gaby would keep herself occupied, just as Napoleon said she would.

She just needed to figure out how.  
___

As was the case with most evenings when they weren't overseas on a mission, Illya spent the night at Gaby's. It was this common-law arrangement that made it so difficult whenever Illya was pulled back, each summoning a reminder that what they had was little more than a fool's paradise.

Gaby had promised herself at the office, however, that she wouldn't give into doleful gloom so they spent their last few hours together carefully avoiding the subject of his imminent departure and subsequent absence. It was easy enough to do with so many distractions to be had in a one bedroom apartment when an imaginative partner was at hand.

In the morning Gaby helped him collect his things before he headed back to his flat. It wouldn't do for him to be picked up from Gaby's place; they were strictly colleagues after all.

"Don't do anything stupid," Gaby said as Illya prepared to leave. "No high speed boat chases...or putting your hands up the skirt of an asset for that matter."

He smiled down at her, eyes still drowsy and soft. They hadn't slept much. 

"And you as well?"

"Don't do anything stupid?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Even if you need to... _take care of business_." he elaborated, mouth twitching with mirth. 

"So you did know what we were talking about," Gaby huffed.

"Of course. I always assume you are speaking something to that effect when I am not around."

She smiled and took a step closer, peering up at him. He wasn't completely wrong.

The door bell rang and Gaby jumped back as though they were reliving one of their many early interruptions. She cursed under her breath, wondering if it was her pernickety downstairs neighbour, coming up to complain about the previous evening's noise _again_ , when a glance through the peephole revealed a delivery man.

She opened the door.

"Gabriella Schmidt?" the man asked, holding a brown paper wrapped box.

"Yes, yes," Gaby said, signing for the delivery that she didn't remember ordering.

Closing the door behind her, Gaby set the box on the kitchen table and began opening the small note that accompanied it.

"Do you even know who this if from?" Illya asked, annoyed.

"Nope," she answered, looking up at his chastising glare, "relax...no one is trying to assassinate me."

The small envelope contained a brief, handwritten note. 

_G,_

_In the absence of your favorite toy, I hope you enjoy this alternative weapon of mass destruction._

_-N._

"It's from Napoleon," she told Illya, nonplussed, "whatever it is..."

Behind the card was a small advert, neatly cut out from a catalogue. Unassumingly ordinary, the ad could be for any home appliance, depicting a smiling woman with a smart bob holding a cylindrical instrument with a tapered tip delicately to her cheek. 

_He didn't_ , Gaby thought in horror as she took in the phallic shape of the instrument.

**GIVE IT TO HER** , the ad read in bold capitals.

Gaby swallowed as Illya slipped the paper from her fingers.

He read the rest out loud.

"She can enjoy an instant massage with this new cordless massager. Fits in pocket or purse. Just twist the base and away she goes."

He stopped to clear his throat.

"Gives fast, penetrating comfort," Illya looked up to meet her eyes with a small furrow of confusion between his brows. "Makes strained, sore muscles feel new. Stimulates circulation, too. Five minutes does the job..."

They glanced at each other as Illya set the ad on the table and Gaby untied the parcel twine and removed the package's brown paper wrapping, revealing a box plastered with a photo of the same smiling woman with the same instrument.

 _Battery massager,_ it read _For Face. For Scalp._

 _For Body_.

Brow still firmly furrowed Illya removed the box's lid to reveal the long, bright red gadget displayed in the ad and on the box. At one end was a tapered tip and the other a circular dial marked 'intensity'. 

Illya reached in to remove it.

"Illya..." Gaby started. 

He held it up for inspection, turning it in his hands, his love of all things novel and mechanical getting the best of his curiosity. 

"Massager...?" he began, confused, as he turned the dial.

The deceptively simple instrument buzzed madly in protest, reverberating through Illya's hand, making him drop it onto the table in surprise. The buzzing increased tenfold as the instrument clattered and skittered wildly across the table's surface. Gaby grabbed at it, feeling the intense vibrations travel up her arm, before she twisted the dial ending the buzzing madness.

Illya's eyes had grown round in shock as he pointed at the shaft in Gaby's hand. 

"That is for...!" he tried to get it out but he either didn't know the word or refused to say it. 

"Of course it is!" Gaby snapped. "Look at the shape of it! Look who gave it to me!"

Illya growled, teeth flashing.

"I am going to kill him! отвратительное извращенец!"

Gaby stuffed the vibrator back in its box and hastily covered it with the lid.

"Well you're going to have to wait three months before you do that," she winced, annoyed that their last few moments together were ruined by Solo's gag gift. She grabbed Illya's wrist and looked at his watch. 

"You need to leave now or you'll be late," she said, backing away from him. 

He gave a deep sigh, a muscle in his jaw still clenching with irritation as he takes her in, memorizing or calculating, she isn't sure.

"Stop looking at me like that," she huffed, a slight blush rising in her cheeks.

"Like what?"

"Like he's going to corrupt me while you're gone."

His eyes flickered to the box on the table, evidence that Napoleon had planted the seed to do just that. Whether it would germinate was still to be determined, and it irked Gaby that two men were so invested in her most private compulsions.

She stepped forward and balances on tipped toes to plant a light kiss on his cheek, the strung muscle relaxing under her lips. 

"Stay safe," she said, "and I'll see you soon."

Gaby watched him from her front window as he stalked down the street to the tube station. She looked back to the box before marching over to it, removing its contents and shredding the cardboard to pieces so no nosy neighbour or rubbish collector could find evidence of her 'gift'. 

Gaby stopped short of tossing the device into the bin with the cardboard scraps and Napoleon's note. She rolled it about in her palm before cursing to herself 

She would keep it, but only to prove to Napoleon that she wouldn't need it. Unlike him, she had self-control. Depositing the vibrator with a flourish in her nightstand drawer Gaby knew she'd forget its existence by the end of the week. She wouldn't even remember she had it by the time Illya returned.  
__

The next five nights, just prior to turning off her bedside lamp, Gaby opened the drawer of her nightstand to look at its contents before slamming it shut again. 

The greater the effort Gaby put into consciously trying to forget the device's existence the more likely it was to pop into her mind during any brief moment of idleness. Her walk to the shops and the street's large red buses, riding the tube through its cylindrical tunnels, passing large blonde strangers on the street, the flashy grin of a male model on a billboard...they all brought her mind back to the insignificant plastic tool in her cluttered drawer. 

It was infuriating.

If only there was something she could do to blow off the steam, her mind had nettled. 

One morning Gaby stabbed at the keys of her typewriter, bordering on violence as her American colleague leisurely filed away documents in the cabinets in front of her desk. 

"What's the matter?" he drolled. "Tense?"

Cursing at an irreparable mistake Gaby tore the paper out, crumpled it, and inserted a fresh sheet. 

"I'm fine," she bit out.

"How is the new and improved Red Peril? I hope you've taken some time to get acquainted..." Napoleon wondered without looking up from the dossier in his hand that, for all she knew, could be completely empty. 

"I have not," Gaby said, typing away.

"And why's that?"

"Because unlike you," she glared at him, fingers still working, "my life isn't dictated by my need to get off with whoever or _whatever_ is available."

Napoleon's brows rose in doubt as he leafed through the open cabinet drawer.

She slams the keyboard. "You think I haven't gone three months without having sex before?!"

"Oh, I have no doubt," he said, smiling at her scoff. "You may not believe me, but I'm just trying to help."

"You're trying to be an ass," she laughed, resuming her work.

"Maybe a little," he shrugged, "but more importantly, I like what we have going here. Me, you two and whatever strange Socialist programming that attracts you to one another. It works, and I'd hate to see someone come in and ruin it."

Gaby looked up at him, face contorted in mock sincerity.

"Going soft Solo?"

"Of course not," he claimed, all masculine bravado, "I just think you should fuck the toy."

Gaby sighed, removing her paper.

"We were so close to having a moment..."

"Just consider it," Napoleon implored.

She doesn't respond.  
__

Nearly a month of slammed drawers and snickering remarks from Solo goes by without Gaby so much as touching the device hidden in her room like a naughty secret. She was quite impressed with her self-control. Despite the fact that each passing day increased her irritability by a small interval, she convinced herself that eight weeks wasn't too far off. She could manage. 

Everything was going swimmingly, until Gaby was sent for marksmanship training and she found herself lying in a grassy field on Waverly's family estate with corporal Goodall of the British Royal Marines. 

"You're very good," the corporal huffed in surprise, stretched out beside her, "have you done this with anyone before?"

"A few times," she said, but she wasn't about to admit it had been with a Russian KGB agent, "he was a bit of a strict tutor."

Gaby took aim again at one of the distant targets, waiting for her pulse to calm before squeezing the trigger and feeling the satisfying thump of the rifle's recoil against her shoulder. She hummed with pride as the target shuddered with impact a moment later. 

"He did a well enough job," Goodall said, impressed, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling with amusement, "I wouldn't want to get on your bad side."

Learning the ropes from one of the best snipers in the military wasn't a terrible way to spend an afternoon in the English countryside, but as the day wore on Gaby felt herself becoming increasingly restless lying beside a well-built man with all of Illya's coloring and height and none of his ill temper. Swap the man's green beret and charming smile with a grey cap and a scowl and she would have a pretty solid doppelgänger for her astray Soviet partner. The similarities were unnerving and her reaction to them was downright worrisome. 

She felt herself blushing like a young girl at his compliment, quickly burying her face against the scope to hide her receptivity. 

Several hours later, after all the targets had been slain and the ammo used up, corporal Goodall walked Gaby back to her parked car at the manor, guns slung over their shoulders, chatting her up as they went along. Illya's looks and physique with all of Napoleon's charisma and easy humor; it was a deadly combination. 

Gaby thanked him politely when they reached her vehicle, carefully avoiding more eye contact than necessary, but before she could turn to get in her car he acted on the inadvertent signals of interest she had been trying to quash all afternoon. 

"Me and some of my mates will be on leave this weekend in London, if you'd care to join us for a pint," he said with Solo's slight smirk that suggested he'd be game for more so long as she was willing.

Gaby was shocked by her hesitancy in turning down his proposition. Her primal mind instantaneously turning over scenarios and excuses for her to accept the invitation, consequences be damned. She's doubly shocked to find that it's a mental image of Napoleon, not Illya, that stills the nod she almost gives. 

_I'd hate to see someone come in and ruin it_. 

She would too, so she thanked the corporal but cordially declined.

Gaby sped home, hugging the curves of the country roads, milking any thrill she could get out of the day that didn't involve her sleeping with a complete stranger who just so happened to look like the man she might be in love with.

When she reached her flat she quickly jumped into a cold shower, hoping the near frigid water would wash away her carnal hunger pangs. It only served to make her skin icy and goose pimpled while the juncture of her legs remained uselessly warm and swollen.

Afterward, Gaby sat in bed with a book, the most droughty one she could find. She read the same paragraph over no less than five times before she glanced at the bedside table.

She readjusted her sitting position and focused on her book, reading the same paragraph again, absorbing absolutely nothing. She considered just conceding and putting her hand down the front of her pajama bottoms to get herself off quickly and quietly, but somehow that wouldn't seem _adequate_. What she wanted and missed was some semblance of losing control for a few moments, and that couldn't be done when it was your own hand calling the shots. She huffed in frustration, eying the nightstand. 

Gaby leaned over and opened the drawer slowly, revealing the long red instrument haphazardly thrown inside. She felt herself blush just looking at it, as though she were some virgin in the presence of a naked man for the first time.

Gathering her courage she reached into the drawer and wrapped her hand around the smooth plastic. It's just a tube with some batteries, she reminded herself, there was no reason to be afraid or embarrassed. She could almost envision Napoleon's smug grin if he knew she were sitting here considering his gift, talking herself into experimentation. 

"I bet it's not even that good," she said to her imaginary Napoleon. 

Gaby twisted the dial at the bottom and the silent room seemingly exploded with the sound of insistent, mechanical buzzing. She swore to herself and twisted it off a moment later, mortified by the noise, certain that it had woken the neighbors, alerted everyone within a four block radius of her nocturnal activities. Jumping out of bed, Gaby went to her portable record player and turned on some appropriately quiet yet dampening music. 

Crawling back under the sheets Gaby turned the vibrator on again, to its lowest setting, getting used to the muffled noise it made from beneath her sheets and duvet. Setting it aside, she shimmied out of her pajama bottoms and panties before picking the instrument back up and taking a deep breath. She placed it tentatively between her thighs.

"Oh," she jerked in surprise when the pulsing vibrations made contact with her flesh. 

Emboldened by the brief flash of pleasure, she placed it more firmly against herself.

"Ohh," she said again, deeper as she slid down her pillows, eyes rolling back.

" _Ohhh...Scheiße!_ "

This _would_ take care of business just fine...  
__

Napoleon found Gaby at her desk, tallying up numbers and humming a lovely tune she had heard on the radio. Something about love coming along... 

"You're in a good mood. What gives?" he asked, sitting on the corner of her desk; a move that usually earned him a tongue lashing. 

"Just filling out expense reports," Gaby smiled up at him before returning to her paperwork and her humming. 

Napoleon narrowed his eyes at her, glancing at the doorway as though he expected the real Gaby to come in and accost him for sitting on her property. 

"You _hate_ doing those," Napoleon scoffed, "just last week you threatened to burn this place down if Waverley's secretary requested you to submit even one more."

Gaby sighed a little laugh.

"Well now I don't mind," she said, batting her lashes and nibbling the end of her pencil dreamily. 

Napoleon's eyes went round with understanding.

"Oh, I see what's happened. Miss Holier Than Thou has finally warmed up to the present that was so kindly given to her," Napoleon teased. "Either that or you've been given a lobotomy..."

She flashed him the little irritation she could muster but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of a confirmation.

"I believe you have a quarterly review scheduled right about now?" she reminded him nonchalantly. 

Napoleon smirked in satisfaction as he stood up. That was all the admission he needed. 

"Am I not a good friend?" he asked from the doorway.

"Goodbye Napoleon," she intoned sweetly as he turned to walk down the hall crooning _I found a thrill to press my cheek to..._

As the days passed and she became more comfortable with her new appliance she lost nearly all of her initial embarrassment and hesitancy. She no longer needed to drown out the noise with music or hide under the covers. Hell, she didn't even need to be in the bedroom, once using it on the couch simply because she was bored and there was nothing on television.

She was also spending a disconcertingly large amount of her weekly budget on batteries. 

Her only concern was how the new addition to her repertoire would mesh in with her with the rest of her sex life, if at all. Illya knew of the device's existence of course, but would he readily accept it as a technological enhancement or reject it on the grounds of potential, if illogical, competition? Man versus machine, so to say.

Gaby decided she would need to break him in slowly if he was ever to warm to the idea.

Her chance came early on a Sunday morning when she had just stumbled in, drunk on alcohol and the need for release. Her phone rang a few moments after she had flopped on the bed. She smiled, knowing exactly who was on the line.

"Good morning Mäuschen," a familiar and deep voice said as soon as she picked up the headset. 

"Mmm...hello," she rasped.

"You have been out," he speculated upon hearing her words.

"Yes, but now I'm home...alone," _for the most part_ , she thought, her toes curling a bit.

"You have been keeping yourself occupied then?" he inquired, a trained indifference in his voice. It would typically be his eyes that would give him away, perhaps the tapping of a finger.

"I have...and you?" she breathed. "Have you been keeping yourself occupied?"

"My job keeps me occupied well enough, you know this," he responded, then softening, "but it does not stop me thinking of you. Very distracting..."

Her mouth opened in a silent gasp, struggling to prevent herself from giving a deep sigh into the phone

"Gaby?" he asked after a moment when she remained silent.

"Keep speaking..." she begged.

"About what?" he wondered. 

"Anything!...t-tell me you miss me..."

"I miss you," he said sincerely. 

"What will you do to me when you get...get back?"

"Do to you?"

"In bed! Or...ah, wherever...fuck me, say it-!" she keened.

"Gaby...?"

She squirmed at the sound of his voice rumbling her name from two thousand miles away, her bent knee pushing the covers back, exposing her to the cool air of the bedroom and the phone's receiver to the sound of her ministrations.

"Is that...? You are using that thing?!" he blustered, shocked by her impropriety despite everything that they have done together.

Gaby moaned. 

"So what if I am?" she gasped.

She hears his huff of angry disbelief.

"I am sorry to disturb you," he said, clearly through clenched teeth, not sounding sorry in the least.

"Not disturbing me..." she exhaled, "It's just- an enhance- an enhancement... _gott_!" 

"I will leave you be with your, _enhancement_ then," he growled, his irritation traveling through the wires and poisoning the moment.

"Illya, don't-" Gaby said as she heard the line click and fall dead.

" _Shit_...Illya?...hello?"

Gaby sat up, the vibrator and her approaching orgasm forgotten. She looked at the phone and felt a brief pang of guilt that was quickly overtaken by annoyance. Who was he to say she couldn't pleasure herself however she saw fit when he _abandoned_ her for his abusive employer? The man was so obtuse; jealous of a piece of plastic. 

She slammed the handset down, turning on her side and pulling the covers over herself, too irritated to finish what she had started. 

"Dummkopf," she murmured sleepily. 

Let him be jealous, she thought, hoping he'd think of her using her gift everyday until he went mad. Then maybe he'd come around to the idea. 

She tried to ignore the excited flip in her belly at the thought of that possibility.

___

Gaby figured she should just finish the bottle since she was less than a glass away from its bottom. It was useless waiting up any longer. His flight had landed hours ago - she knew from HQ - but he hadn't even called her to check in.

If he wanted to be an immature child, she'd let him. He was the one missing out, not her. 

Gaby threw on her robe and went to the bedroom, ready to settle down without one further thought about the infuriating, insecure, _ass_ of a Russian who had left her out to dry for eight weeks.

The wine had long since gone to her head preventing her from simply falling asleep. She was hot and bothered and suffering from months of pent up frustration. She kept her bedside lamp on and whipped open the drawer of the table it sat on.

"Well if he won't, you will," she said to the vibrator sitting inside. She was truly losing her marbles now. She blamed Illya for that as well. 

Just as she was shimmying out of her underwear she heard a brief knock at her front door. 

Gaby growled in annoyance, despite the familiar flip of anticipation she couldn't suppress. Another knock and she was tempted to not answer.

Then she heard the tell-tale grating of the lock being picked and she marched into the living room and to the apartments entrance. Gaby opened the door, taking Illya's pick with it.

"You could have called," she spat. 

Illya straightened to his full height and looked down at her like a disapproving parent.

"It was best I saw you in person," he rumbled above her.

That was something they agreed on at least. They didn't communicate well over the phone. Clearly.

Gaby let him in.

She watched him inspect the flat as though he were expecting the place to be coated in debauchery; all the evidence of the sins she had committed while he was away to be strewn about every surface. She was almost sorry to disappoint him.

"Well you have me here in person," she snipped, "what is it you would like to discuss?"

"I do not want to discuss anything," he grunted.

Gaby gave an exasperated sigh, hands flopping to her sides. 

"Then you can just leave," she huffed, brushing past him to return to her bedroom. Then, just to twist the knife a bit, she added, "I have better things to do."

His head snapped around in her direction catching the smug grin she shot him over her shoulder.

She was half expecting to hear the front door open and slam by the time she jumped back onto her bed. But it didn't and a moment later Illya was looming in her bedroom's entrance.

Gaby feigned to ignore him as she picked up the vibrator and ran her hand along its length, enjoying his irritated grumbling. 

"Are you going to stay and watch the show?" she teased, "or are you too intimidated by Napoleon's gift?"

Illya stalked toward her, towering at the end of her bed.

"You think I can be replaced by machine?"

"Well, Napoleon does consistently refer to you as 'it'. I'm sure he'd argue you're one and the same," she said, smiling at his darkening expression.

He grabbed her ankle and she gave a little yelp as he tugged her toward the foot of the bed, her robe bunching up behind her back. 

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked, incredulous, as he knelt on the floor at the end of the bed. 

He pinned her legs to the bed on either side of her, his forearms pressing into the soft flesh of her inner thighs. The position would be uncomfortable, if not outright painful, had her muscles not been made lithe through years of training. Thank God for ballet...

Her body may not have experienced any discomfort but she felt completely overexposed, spread out before him without any preamble, after months of limited contact. He seemed overwhelmed himself, his eyes losing a little focus as he took her in.

"What are you doing down there?" she challenged rising to her elbows, trying to gain some semblance of control. Gaby tried to move her legs but he pressed down, stilling her movements.

"Giving you exactly what you want," he said looking up, a barb of annoyance still in his voice. 

Gaby watched as he took the vibrator in his hand and twisted it into action. He frowned slightly as he felt the reverberation in his palm - was he intimidated after all? - while Gaby once again felt embarrassment color her cheeks at its loud, insistent buzz. 

She swallowed as Illya observed her almost clinically, calculating how he should proceed using this new technology. Deciding, Illya peered up at her darkly as he slid the tip between her inner folds and up over her clitoris and circled. 

Gaby's eyes rolled back much as they had the first time she had used the instrument on herself, when she has been so desperate to let go. Her muscles clenched involuntarily when the vibrations stimulated her tender flesh. There was even less control this time as Illya kept her restrained and utterly powerless as he manipulated the vibrations wherever he saw fit.

" _Gott_ , Illya!" she gasped as he kept circling, her elbows shaking as she tried to keep herself upright. Her body wanted her to fall back, but she needed to see, watch him as he worked her over.

Just as Illya was building her up he drew away, tracing the tip in and along her folds, just barely brushing over where she needed it. Gaby attempted to jerk herself back into direct contact but was reprimanded when he drew away completely and laid a sharp bite high on her inner thigh.

"Put it back, Illya!" she whined. "I was close!"

He smiled then - the bastard! - glancing at the plastic shaft in his hand with a look of smug satisfaction, as though he were wielding some magic wand he had only just discovered. 

"Too close, too quick," he mused, "it has made you impatient..."

She surged and tried to clamp her legs around his head. Illya responded with a sharp huff of amusement before he pressed the full weight of his upper body between her legs. He ignored her protests, kissing the soft skin of her belly, vibrator still buzzing away in his hand. 

"Shh," he gentled, "let me."

Gaby's nostrils flared, wanted to tell him off, but conceded with a nod instead. She felt his weight lift off her.

Her breath hitched when he applied the device against her once again, this time rubbing nearly its entire length back and forth along her slickness. Illya allowed her slightly more movement, although her legs were still pinned aside, and she rotated her hips eagerly to get the most from the intense pulsations. She cried and cursed and panted as he _still_ teased her just enough to build her up but not enough to peak. 

Gaby bucked as much as she could when he slid down beside and around her clit, never over. She threw her head back against the mattress with an animalistic groan of frustration.

Illya drew away slightly. She cracked her eyes to see him evaluating the instrument critically.

"Hm... manufacturer claimed five minutes does the job," he tutted. "Must be defective..."

He smirked up at her once again. She wanted to tear him to pieces. This isn't how she had imagined things would happen...

Illya, emboldened, evaluated her trembling and warm flesh, bending his left arm to run a thumb around her entrance. With a look of pure concentration, he dipped the quivering instrument inside her a fraction. He watched her stretch around it and hummed in approval. 

"I would ask if this is too much but I know for fact it is not," he said, glancing to her. She huffed a brief laugh, chest heaving, as she clenched tightly around the vibrating shaft. She wriggled in an attempt to take more, get it deep enough to stimulate that one specific spot she had become so familiar with over the preceding weeks.

"Cocky," she moaned as he pressed further into her. 

Illya drew the instrument in and out, mimicking their lovemaking. He released one of her legs to allow his free hand to toy with her, his thumb grazing her swollen bud. Gaby hissed at the exquisite, sharp, almost painful pleasure it brought to her. 

He angled the toy upward inside her, concentrating the intense vibrations on the dip that he knew was hidden inside, never letting up on the rhythm of his thrusts.

The powerful mechanical pulsations were almost too much. She was stretched thin, receiving constant stimulation from outside and within, every nerve firing in unison. Her legs trembled and twitched uncontrollably while her hips jerked toward Illya.

She rose on her elbows again, mouth wide in a silent moan, fingers tangled in the duvet. The scene before her -legs spread wide, Illya between them, fully clothed, dark and focused, fucking her with an obscene sex toy- nearly pushed her over the edge. Only a second or more...she fell back on the bed, back arching. _Almost_...

Illya turned off the vibrator and the sensation fell away, leaving her breathless as though she were unexpectedly doused in cold water.

Gaby nearly shrieked when she caught her breath, desperately clenching around the inert instrument.

"WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!" she cried out, eyes scrunched shut.

"I did not mean to," Illya defended from between her legs. "It is out of battery."

Up on elbows, Gaby looked down in disbelief. She wanted to laugh, but she felt closer to tears.

Illya frowned and withdrew the lifeless vibrator. With a disapproving look he tossed it aside.

"It is not needed," he growled before pulling her forward, legs thrown over his shoulders. 

Gaby gasped again when his warm and soft tongue slid over her. She bucked into his hand as he inserted two fingers into her recently vacated cleft. He sucked and licked and rubbed with practiced expertise. It was all so warm. She had nearly forgotten the delightful sensation of warm wet flesh sliding against her own. So much life and warmth and a softer, yet no less pleasurable insistence. In a few moments Illya had her right back where she was, teetering on the edge, begging for release. 

She didn't need to ask more than once. He gladly finished her, groaning at her renewed wetness, as she spasmed around him, gasping his name. 

He waited for her to come back down, cheek resting against her trembling thigh. When she exhaled a deep sigh he rose and slid her back fully onto the bed, brushing his palm across her belly. She shivered and smiled to him, but his focus was on the instrument lying beside her.

Gaby turned her head to look, raising her brows.

"Are we keeping it?" she asked, smile still tugging at her lips.

Illya began removing his clothes, frowning as he thought. He finally shrugged slightly after he pulled his shirt over his head.

"As you say, it is just enhancement," he concluded, "but like most technology, it is useless without proper wielding by man."

Gaby snorted in amusement.

"So you are no longer worried about being replaced?" she wondered as he made his way over to the bed.

"No," he said, crawling atop her, kissing her neck. "It will never know you...know what pleases you like I do."

Gaby smiled again, very pleased, as he settled between her thighs.

Illya quirked a brow at her.

"I also have much longer battery life."

**Author's Note:**

> I am posting this at 2:30 am so the proof reading might have been a bit dodgy. I'll do edits in the morning if needed, but feel free to point them out to me!
> 
> The ad in this fic is real and really was something that was posted in a normal everyday catalog or newspaper. Vibrators were just coming into the mainstream in the early 60s and manufacturers were restricted in how they could advertise their products. They oftentimes listed them a 'massagers' or health related appliances. While we pretty must know a vibrator as soon as we see one, it is possible that someone back then might be a bit confused about its purpose as Gaby/Illya initially were since they just weren't as readily available. Someone like Napoleon however, would probably know exactly where to find one ;)
> 
> отвратительное извращенец: disgusting pervert  
> Dummkopf: idiot/fool


End file.
